How Hollis could let the place fall down around him and not . . . He cut off that thought, reminding himself that Hollis was probably doing the best he could. Hollis had always been a gentle soul. The war had torn his tender spirit to shreds. Callum had seen boys become men on the battlefield. But on those same fields, he’d watched men lose their minds and lose their way. Hollis had served admirably and honorably, but he was a prisoner of war, trapped in a perpetual hell of flashbacks and nightmares.
He didn’t want to add to Hollis’s troubles, but he felt it was time to clear the air about his dealings with Banner. Sure, he was Banner’s brother and should stand by her, but Banner wasn’t a blushing girl barely out of pinafores. She, too, had survived the war and its horrors. She was acting head of the Payne family, having wrested it easily enough from Hollis.
Heel-tapping Butter into a gallop, Callum joined the round up. Before the day was over, he meant to get Hollis alone for a man-to-man talk.
###
Just before quitting time as the sun squatted on the horizon, Callum rode up alongside Hollis, who was zigzagging through a stand of trees to be sure there weren’t any cattle hiding in the lengthening shadows.
“Tomorrow we should winnow out the cows that haven’t dropped their calves yet and move them closer to my place,” Callum said, getting a nod from Hollis. “That’ll make it easier to keep an eye on them.” Another nod. “I wanted to let you know that someone shot at me yesterday.”
Hollis reined his horse and pinned Callum with solemn eyes. “On purpose?”
“Damn near took my head off.”
Hollis said something under his breath, then, “Who?”
Callum hunched his shoulders against the bite of the wind. “Damned coward didn’t show himself. I’m telling you so that you’ll be on the look-out.”
“Wouldn’t be surprised if it wasn’t Johnson or Baines.” Hollis crossed his wrists on the saddle horn. “They’re the type to hide and shoot.”
“Don’t suppose you’d carry a rifle or gun.”
Tension tightened the skin around Hollis’s eyes and at the corners of his mouth. “Nope. I’ll never carry another firearm as long as I draw breath.”
“A knife?”
He patted a sheath tied to his saddle. “Got one to cut rope and the like.”
Callum shrugged. “At least it’s something. Won’t do you much good if you see a wolf go after one of the cattle, though.”
“Me and Smoke here have chased off half a dozen or more.” He patted the gray gelding’s neck.
Callum let the quiet settle around them for a minute before he finally got down to it. “I appreciate that you look after your sister, Hollis. I know she’s glad you have her back, too.”
“All a gal has worth anything is her virtue.” Hollis sent him a mean glare.
“I can’t say I agree. Most women I know have more worth than that, Banner included. I think highly of her. I want you to know that.”
“I don’t like what people are saying. And I don’t like you smooching her so you can take our land.”
“Oh, hell!” He gritted his teeth against the shout that rattled in his throat. “You can’t believe that horseshit.” He stared hard at Hollis and was glad when Hollis looked away, shame making his skin ruddy. “The only reason I’m bringing this up with you is to ease your worries. She’s full-grown and I’m not about to ask your permission to . . . to . . .” He gestured to finish the sentence since he had run out of words.
Hollis straightened in the saddle. “Permission to what? What’s on your mind?”
The ridiculousness of the situation shimmied through him and Callum coughed out a harsh laugh. “Hell if I know.” He shook his head. “Hollis, if I did, I’d tell you. All I know is that your sister makes me feel alive. She makes my heart kick. She makes my blood run hot. No one and nothing has made me feel alive since the war. Really alive.” He tapped his fist against his chest. “You understand, don’t you?”
Hollis nodded, his face set in grave lines. “I don’t want her used and tossed aside. You do that to her and I’ll come after you, Callum Latimer. I’ll come after you and beat the living hell out of you or die trying.”
He ran a hand along the back of his neck, picking out words as close to the truth as he could make them. “Hollis, I wish I could tell you what will happen or if anything will come of this. Sometimes I feel like I should leave her be because I’m not fit to court her because, like you, I have demons I’m fighting. Other times, I can’t help myself. I won’t ever hurt her or disrespect her. I give you my word on that.” He held out his hand, and after a few tense moments, Hollis shook it.
They sat astride their horses and watched the cattle for a few minutes before Hollis heaved a big sigh.
“I don’t feel like I used to, either. I guess I never will.” His eyes shifted to spear Callum with a warning. “But I ain’t crazy.”
“I never thought you were. I’ve seen men go mad – during battles and afterward. Sometimes I thought I might be coming apart at the seams, but I managed to hold myself together.” He ran a gloved hand down his face, suddenly feeling cold and hot at the same time. “It’s the nightmares that get to me. I wake up from them and –”
“You can’t shake them,” Hollis interrupted. “They stick in your brain and they’re so real. I swear I can smell the cannon fire and the blood. I can hear the men crying for their mamas and screaming in agony like I was back there amongst ʾem.”
Callum swallowed the oppression that swelled in his throat and saw the glimmer of moisture in the other man’s eyes. “Yeah. I figured it would take time to leave all that behind, but now I wonder if that’s even possible.”
“Banner says I need to replace the bad memories with good ones.” He shrugged. “It ain’t that easy.”
“No. It’s not.” Callum tipped back his head and stared at the fleecy clouds. “Eventually, what we experienced during the war will fade. The weight of it will lessen. We came out of it with whole bodies and brains that still work.”
Hollis swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. “But don’t it all seem empty? Sometimes I want to see my pa and brothers so bad that I . . . I . . .wish I was with them.”
That admission was like a hot knife slipping through his heart and Callum felt a keen connection to the man beside him. Yes, he knew the agony of growing up as a brother and then not being one. Having it all stripped from you, leaving you feeling unsupported, unsure of your place in the world. It was a feeling he had learned to shoulder, but not to fully accept. How could he when his brothers’ footprints were all over this land, when their voices called to him in the wind, and bittersweet memories ambushed him every day?
Callum rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the tension from his muscles. “Banner needs you. Remember that, Hollis.”
Hollis blinked and seemed to lift from the mire of his own depressing thoughts. “Yeah, I know. I need her, too. She’s always been one to want to fix anything broken. Sure didn’t surprise me when she went off with the doc to tend to soldiers. Now she’s trying to heal me, even though I’ve told her it can’t be done.” He speared Callum with a sharp glance. “She’ll be yearning to chase away your demons, too. That’s just how she’s made, I reckon.”
Callum frowned, not liking the sound of that. He didn’t want to be seen by Banner as something broken. He didn’t need her to be his nursemaid.
“Well, I’ll be getting home.”
“See you, Hollis.” Callum watched Hollis ride away from him. He admired the man. There wasn’t a dishonest bone in Hollis Payne’s lanky body. Nor any artifice. Damn shame for the war to have rattled him so badly. Truth be told, Hollis would probably never be whole or happy again.
A few scant weeks ago, Callum had thought the same thing about himself. But a golden-eyed girl had sparked a glimmer of hope in him. The glimmer grew brighter with each smile she gave him and every taste he stole from her lips. But he didn’t want her fussing over him, thinking she cou
ld mend his broken places. Maybe Hollis was fine with that, but Callum knew he couldn’t stand it. He wanted her – wanted her with every breath he took – but not as his nursemaid. Never that.
Chapter 11
The addition of the Payne herd had doubled his work, but Callum hadn’t felt the load as keenly as he did that Sunday morning. After a week of riding hard from sunup to sundown, doing chores in the evening by moonlight, and roping and wrestling calves and their mamas for two days straight, he’d groaned like an old man when he’d forced himself out of bed. Muscles bunched in his neck and shoulders and burned down his back and legs. He was sorely tempted to fall back into bed and stay there.
But he didn’t. Hell, he couldn’t.
He’d had to see to his father and had helped him dress. Then they’d shared a quick breakfast of hot coffee and leftover cornbread crumbled into bowls of milk. He’d dashed out to feed and check on the livestock, hoping to make fast work of it. Naturally, one of the horses had gotten spooked by something during the night and had kicked a hole into her stall door, knocking it off its hinges and bruising her ankle.
“What the hot hell happened to you?” Callum grumbled, leaning over to run his hand gently over the mare’s swollen skin. There were no cuts and the horse didn’t seem to be in much pain. He rubbed liniment on the area before righting the gate and boarding up the hole. The activity loosened his sore muscles so that he wasn’t moving around like a busted up old cowpoke.
It was his birthday, but he tried not to dwell on that. But he did feel older. Not just a year older, but years older. Sometimes, he thought he should have gray hair and wrinkles. Like today with his creaky bones and tight muscles. To his mind, celebrating birthdays was for babies and toddlers. Grown men and women shouldn’t make a fuss about them. On his birthday last year, he had worked all day and then had ridden into town for a couple of swigs of whiskey and a round or two of poker. He’d lost five dollars and had felt like a damn fool on the ride home.
He wouldn’t make that same mistake this year. After work, he’d sit by the fire and read before crawling into bed. Like an old man. He winced and shoved aside that nettling taunt.
Staunchly ignoring the aches that occasionally cinched his muscles, he set to mucking out stalls. He’d just finished bottle feeding four orphaned calves when he heard the rattle and thumping of a horse and wagon. Striding out of the barn, he almost tripped over his own feet when he saw Banner hopping down from her wagon. His heart expanded at the unexpected sight of her. She spotted him and waved.
“Something wrong?” he asked, walking toward the house. She had piled her rich brown hair onto her head in that way that made him want to pluck out the pins and let it tumble. She wore the yellow dress that hugged her narrow waist and ripe breasts.
“No. Everything is fine,” she called back to him. “Could you see to Pansy for me?” Then she flounced into the house.
He stood for a few moments, staring after her. What the hell? Maybe she was going to put his father through some exercises. Or she left something here . . . no, she wanted him to unhitch the wagon. She was staying for a spell. Shrugging, he trudged to the wagon and clucked Pansy into a walk, guiding her to the barn. While he unhitched her and put the docile mare into one of the stalls, he tried to figure out what would bring Banner to the ranch on Sunday morning. A notion speared his brain and he straightened and stared out the barn door at the house.
Awww, hell. His birthday. But how did she know about it?
“Pa, you big mouth,” he grumbled, heading back into the barn to saddle Butter. It wasn’t a special day, he thought, stubbornly. Like any other day, he’d ride out to check on the livestock.
The cattle had been herded into several different places – some in a couple of big pens and others into a valley. They were restless in the confined spaces, mooing and snorting and shoving each other. Tomorrow, they’d separate the calves from the mamas and the bulls from the rest of them. Things would get noisier and more dangerous because the babies would be bellowing for their mamas and the mamas would be having conniption fits.
Riding from one holding place to another, the hours slipped by and it was early afternoon when he returned to the house. Banner’s wagon was still there. No doubt, she was busy cooking up a feast and maybe even baking a cake, he thought as he busied himself in the barn. His stomach growled, competing with the pounding of hooves approaching the homestead. He dumped feed into troughs for Butter and the other horses and went outside to stare with growing annoyance at the approach of Ki, Mary, and their sons. Well, so much for a quiet afternoon by the fire. He just hoped his pa hadn’t blabbed about his birthday to anyone else.
The Echohawk sons all sauntered toward him, sheepish grins on their faces. Ben and James, the two oldest, were the same height, but their “little” brother K.J. topped them by two inches. K.J. had also been the first to marry. Although he was only eighteen, he’d taken a seventeen-year-old bride that April. By the end of summer, he’d announced that he’d be a father in the first month or two of next year. Since Callum thought of K.J. as a kid, it was difficult to imagine him as a kid’s father.
“Happy Birthday, Cal,” K.J. said, reaching out a hand to him. “You don’t look a day over forty.”
“And let me tell you, the way I feel matches the way I look,” Callum said, pumping K.J.’s hand and playfully throwing punches at Ben and James. “Should I even bother to ask why you’re here?”
“We are here to eat good food and drink some of your rotgut,” James said, slapping him on the back, making him wince. “Nothing to do with you, old son.”
“That’s good. That’s the way I like it.” Callum eased away from them to avoid any further punching and walloping. He lifted a hand to Mary and Ki, who were making their way into the house.
“We will pitch in on your chores so that we can spend the rest of the day filling our bellies and putting our feet up,” James said.
“You’re a few hours too late for that,” Callum said. “I’ve finished my chores for the day.”
“Then our timing is perfect,” Ben said, laughing and motioning Callum to join them. “Come on. That cook of yours is probably loading the table right now. We should dig in while it’s all piping hot.”
Resigning himself to the inevitable, Callum walked with them to the house. His father stood at the door, grinning like a fool.
“Happy Birthday, son.”
“Thanks, Pa.” Callum shook his hand and moved in for a quick hug. “You shouldn’t have done this, you know.”
“I got every right to celebrate the day my boy was born,” Seth said, still smiling. “Now, get on into the dining room. We’ve been smelling all this good food and we’re hungry as bears!”
“Who all did you invite?”
“Mary and Ki and the boys and the ranch hands. And Banner, of course.”
Banner stepped into the parlor. She’d donned a red-and-white checked apron on which she was drying her hands. “Happy Birthday, Callum.” Her smile seemed to light up the room along with his heart.
Removing his hat, he ran a hand through his hair as he felt all eyes turn his way. “Thanks. I should . . . that is, I need to clean up. Y’all go ahead and eat. I’ll be along in a bit.”
Banner shook her head, still smiling brightly. “We’ll wait for you. After all, you’re the reason we’re all here.” She tilted her head, looking past him. “Here comes the rest of them.”
The cowhands bounded onto the porch, followed by Eller and Lilah. They chorused “Happy Birthday” greetings and Callum shook hands with the men and gave a polite nod to Lilah.
“Callum Latimer, that just won’t do!” Lilah fluttered her lashes at him, then gripped his upper arms and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “I swear you get more handsome every year.” She smiled at him, all coquettish, then looked at Mary and then at Banner. “Don’t you agree, ladies?”
Uneasiness clenched his gut as he saw Ben frown and look away from Lilah. The woman was nothing if not
a first-class flirt. He hoped Ben saw that now.
“Thank you for that charming gift of hogwash, Lilah,” Callum said, mostly for Ben’s edification. “Now, excuse me. I need to wash off this dirt and grime before I sit down at the fine table Banner has set.”
Eller clapped him on the back, dislodging bits of leaves and hay from his jacket. “You been working on your birthday, cousin? That don’t seem right.”
Callum didn’t bother with a retort to that idiotic statement. Instead, he shouldered past Eller and went around to the back of the house to the pump and trough. Stripping off his jacket and shirt, he set to washing his arms, neck, and face. The back door slammed and Hollis came loping toward him, a fresh shirt in his hand, which he foisted on him.
“Banner said to give this to you. You need anything else?”
“No, thanks.” He slipped his arms into the shirt and then bent to untie his leather chaps.
“She’s right proud of the cakes she baked for you.” Hollis stuffed the tops of his fingers into his pants pockets. “You ought to brag on ʾem.”
Callum smiled as he buttoned his shirt. “I’ll be sure to do that.”
“You were Lilah’s beau. You still like her?”
“Lilah is married to my cousin, Hollis.” He arched a brow, daring Hollis to say more on the subject as he tucked in his shirt tails. “We were both fickle children back then.” He placed his arm around the slight man’s narrow shoulders. “Let’s go in before my stomach caves in on itself.”
They entered the house through the back door. Banner was at the kitchen stove, her dark hair curling damply on her forehead and temples.
“Go on into the dining room, you two. Everyone’s seated and waiting for you.” She shooed them with a flick of her hands and lifted a tray of biscuits from the oven.
Grinning at her bossiness, Callum obeyed but took a few extra moments to admire the gentle swell of her hips as she bent forward to remove another tray of biscuits. For a searing moment, he imagined his own hips rocking into hers.
Solitary Horseman Page 15
